Tomorrow is Our Promise
by ArielChelby
Summary: The Army of the Dead approaches Winterfell. Jon helps Dany get into her armour as they both prepare to let the other go to battle the dead.


Tomorrow is Our Promise

Outside the wind howled, blowing the falling snow with fury. The sound only accentuated the somber mood that had seeped into their shared chambers. Bran had a vision of the Army of the Dead approaching, bringing with it all manner of monstrosities. Impossibly, the cold chill outside had become crueler, and scouts returned with reports of a gathering mist. The great war was here, and it was time.

No more time for strategies or theorizing, it was time for the Queen of Dragons, and the King in the North to lead the attack for the living. Gods help them should they fail.

The silence in the room was deafening as the dark, and brooding Northman helped his silver wife get into her armor. Practically having had to beg, he was grateful she had agreed to wear it at all. Black, and shining, with red three-headed dragons on the pauldrons. They had avoided making the armor too heavy for her small frame, and he prayed to the old gods it would save her from any stray arrows... or spears.

Standing back he examined his work, feeling Dany study his face. She was awe inspiring, a formidable vision in ebony, silver hair pulled back in intricate braids. Yet she was still so small, and vulnerable to attack, should she be thrown from her murderous mount.

"My fearsome warrior queen", he appraised, refusing to let the terror he knew was lurking in his gut come to the surface. They didn't have time for fear, and despair. It would not serve them now.

She responded with a hesitant smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Does it feel alright? Can you move in it?", he asked with concern.

"I suppose so. My main objective is only to hold on", she replied evenly.

"And the dagger? Can you reach it easily enough?".

Without responding, she pulled out a dragon glass dagger with a black pommel, from where it had been sheathed at her side. At his nod of approval, she put it away. It was slightly more comforting knowing that she had it, should things go wrong. Thank the Gods Arya had given her some lessons on wielding it.

Jon circled her, checking, and pulling at bits of her armour to make sure everything was secure. Standing in front of her again, he continued his inspection, feeling a pull at his heart when his eyes travelled to her face. Tears were threatening to spill from her violet eyes, and her bottom lip had begun to quiver.

Resisting the urge to surround her with his arms, that would not help now, he placed his hands on her shoulders, and met her eyes.

Softly he told her, "Dany, don't". Wiping away the single tear that had rolled down her cheek with his thumb, he promised her, "Tomorrow, I will help you get out of this armour. I will bathe you, I will feed you, and then I will hold you in our bed for as long as you will let me. You can let all your tears flow freely then, my love".

Stiffening her lip, swallowing her panic, she gave her best effort at a sweet smile, and answered, "I won't have time to cry tomorrow, for after I get you out of your armour I'll be bathing you too, and washing this hair", reaching out to play with the raven curls tied at the back of his head. "Then you will wear it down for me all day so I can run my fingers through it".

"As long as you stay abed with me completely naked", he bargained.

"Tomorrow is starting to sound quite naughty", she replied, giving him a true smile.

"Oh, how I long for tomorrow, Dany".

Walking across the battlements in the twighlight hour, archers were preparing, their armies were gathered below: dothraki, unsullied, and northmen. All had been given dragon glass versions of their preferred weapons, and Jon hoped all their preparations would be enough. The fire light of torches, and braziers could be seen scattered about.

"Where will you be?", she asked, failing to conceal the fright coloring her tone.

Pointing to the northern army, he said, "I'll lead the attack there...and I won't be alone".

Breathing becoming more shallow, she stammered, "That is where you will be? What if Viserion gets past me?"

Hands on her shoulders again to anchor her, he told her, "Don't. Tomorrow I'm going to bring you up here to watch the sunrise. If you can handle the cold".

Sniffling, she replied, "Not if I'm still completely naked".

Laughing he caressed her cheek,"You'll be wrapped in my cloak, and nestled in my arms".

"That does sound warm".

As they made their way through the court yard, Drogon's imposing figure came into view, taking up a substantial portion of the area. Black, and dreadful, it should have allayed his fears to know his wife would be with him... but it did not.

It was almost eerie how patiently this lethal beast was waiting for his mother. No playfulness, none of the impatience that Jon had grown accostom to where her dragons were concerned, and he felt dread begin to resurface from his gut.

Ser Jorah was waiting for her nearby, dressed in his own plate mail, sword strapped at his side. Jon felt stabbing pains in his heart, and tension riddled his body. Something like jealousy, and regret, and absolute terror were taking over now.

This is madness. What am I doing? I should be going with her. It's my duty to protect her. And Gods, she is pregnant. What kind of husband am I? What kind of man?

Their eyes met, his dark eyes the picture of distress, and anguish. He knew she could see it, and that she was going to try to talk him down, but all he could feel was an overpowering urge to take her away from all of this.

"I desperately wish I was going with you", was all he could manage. Even in the deepest recesses of his terrified mind, he knew this wasn't possible.

"As do I", she said running a gloved hand along his jawline.

Looking down to collect himself, he began to falter, and could not bring himself to let her see the tears in his eyes.

Compelling him to look at her, hands on his shoulders, telling him, "Don't. You will go riding with me tomorrow. As long as you promise not to fall off".

Looking down again, he replied, "As my queen commands".

Placing a kiss upon his cheek, and a hand over his heart, "do not despair, my love. Everything will be better tomorrow".

Forcing himself to hold her gaze again, he regarded her for a moment before pulling her into him for a deep kiss.

Then slowly, he dropped to one knee, he ran his hands over the portion of her breast plate covering her abdomen, protecting both his wife, and baby. Placing a gentle kiss there, he felt his nerve wavering again.

I cannot lose them both. I will not lose them.

Hearing his breath start hitch, she pulled him off his knee, and placed her hands against his chest. "Don't", she told him. "Tomorrow when we are laying abed, you will rest your head against my belly, and tell our baby stories of your adventures".

"My stories are quite dreary", he sniffled.

"You will make them better", she commanded.

His laughter returning him to a more rational place, he took her head in his hands, her cheeks rosy from the bitter cold, and held her gaze.

"I love you, Daenerys Stormborn. When you are up there... remember tomorrow. Tomorrow is why we are here. If things turn dire... you come back here. Come back to me".

Dany threw her arms over his shoulders, hands on his neck, guiding his mouth to hers. The heat between them a welcome relief from the oppressive cold. His gloved hands trailed over her tresses, holding her there as lips, and tongues met with a promise.

"I love you too, Jon Snow, and you will do the same for me. If you are overwhelmed, fall back. Fall back, and I will find you... Let tomorrow be for us".

"You'll save me again, will you?", he smiled down at her.

"Always", was her reply as she caressed his cheek.

Her cold pink nose brushed against his as she pressed her lips softly to his, one last time. He breathed in her scent deeply before she broke away, suddenly. The loss he felt was immediate, and ruinous. Before he could expel the traitorous thought from his mind, he realized that that kiss may have been their last.

Once she had turned from him she did not look back again, cape, and long braid blowing in the bitter wind. Utterly helpless he watched her ascend the scaly stair, her old knight behind her. A seasoned knight, with excellent skills for battle, Jon at least knew she would not be defenseless.

Rooted to his spot, he braced himself for the blow back of Drogon's wings as he took to the sky. He offered a final prayer to the old gods, please just keep them safe. Do not take them from me so soon.

Breathing in deeply, squaring his shoulders, he forced a numbness to settle over his body. It was time to put Jon Snow the man aside, and become the King in the North, the commander everyone, including her, needed him to be.

Tomorrow everything would be different.


End file.
